


candle stumps

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (sort of. the implication of it anyway), Fix-It, Game Spoilers, JUNE 2ND IS THIS ANGEL'S BIRTHDAY THANK YOU ATLUS, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: The second of June usually passes without fanfare. Most of the time, he forgets it’s even his birthday. It’s just another day, another month, another number. Given the former thieves’ love for celebrations though, he can’t imagine they’ll be satisfied with doingnothing.(or: goro akechi finally gets the birthday party he deserves.)





	candle stumps

**Author's Note:**

> hi! spoilers for anything past the seventh palace, kind of. referenced anyway. also: mention of suicide, but it's very briefly.
> 
> unbeta'd and kind of super indulgent, but i just really want goro to be happy. and to have a good birthday. i'm a very simple person.

The second of June usually passes without fanfare; even as a child, it’d been nothing but a small cake and a few candles nearly burned to stumps. The last one he remembers clearest ended up on the ground, his mother yelling at him for being ungrateful.

(She came in later that night to rub little circles on his back while he cried, her chin pressed to the top of his head. There weren’t any cakes or celebrations after that—she’d taken her own life later that year.)

Most of the time, he forgets it’s even his birthday. It’s just another day, another month, another number. Given the former thieves’ love for celebrations though, he can’t imagine they’ll be satisfied with doing _nothing._

He’s proven right when they wrestle him into agreeing into a party of _some_ sort. No time like the present to make up for lost time. _That’s why we saved you_ goes unspoken, and somewhere in his heart he’s glad for their persistence. It makes him tired otherwise, and he keeps his silence as they slowly congregate in Leblanc.

Even Akira’s managed to come in some form—he looks like he just woke up, admittedly, despite the fact it’s definitely a school day. Morgana’s beside him, tail flicking.

“We’ll come by,” Akira replies to Ryuji’s lamentations—he was disappointed Akira wouldn’t be able to be here; Goro’s certain all of them share that sentiment, but he’d settled for watching his coffee instead of saying so. “My parents’ anniversary is this weekend anyway. They’d be more than happy for me to be out of the house.”

Ann glances at him with a slight frown, arms crossed. “Um, weren’t you _just_ saying earlier this year that you’d be doing your best to graduate…?”

“Missing a few days won’t kill me. Unlike Ryuji.”

Goro can’t hide his snort, and he catches Akira’s grin before he turns from Ryuji’s glare. There’s no real heat to it, which is… nice. Unthinkable, before. Ann’s cheer for something _expensive_ drags his attention back to the careful planning, and he reclines against the bar, crossing his arms.

“Do you even have the money to spare? Haru-chan aside,” he adds, nodding to her; Haru smiles even as the rest of their group glances away.

“Oh, I don’t mind paying. Actually, we could rent out Destinyland again if you’d like. I still have a few favors to make good on.” She pauses, lacing her fingers together. “It’d be nice to associate it with something other than… last time.”

His heart pangs for her burdened expression and he glances away; no amount of apologizing could ever make it up to her, and despite her kind, gentle nature, she’d been one of the last to warm up to him completely. Even Futaba had come before her, begrudgingly. And if things hadn’t worked out in the past, if he hadn’t lived, if he hadn’t been rescued…

Well, there’s no way he would’ve been able to atone for what he’d been doing anyway. Their attitudes weren’t softer, but at least _understanding,_ once his relationship to Masayoshi Shido had been revealed, as well as his place in Yaldabaoth’s game. He still remembers Akira’s Velvet Room, how similar it was to his own, though every cell door was locked.

True imprisonment, instead of the false implication of freedom in his own.

He realizes the conversation’s grown quiet, and they’re looking to him for an answer—he stares, not sure what he’s been asked, and chuckles, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry, I was… thinking. What?”

“We wanted to know if that’d be okay with you. Destinyland, maybe going to the beach over the weekend.” Akira shrugs, but he can tell he’s tense, waiting for an answer. Goro purses his lips, then nods.

The grin that breaks out over the rest of the group matches the one in his heart, and he drops his gaze back to his coffee, warmth washing over him. He listens to them make plans and answers questions when he’s asked (no particular favorite flavor for cake, he’s okay with rides, no preference for dinner), and soon it’s decided.

On Friday, they all meet Akira at the station; Ryuji slings his arm around his shoulder, Yusuke drifts closer to his side, and Ann and Futaba both give him a huge hug, while Haru and Makoto simply tell him welcome home (though with no less affection than anything else anyone else does), and Goro…

Goro feels his breath catch in his throat when Akira looks at him, all smiles, and he nods. “Welcome home,” he says, and jumps a little when Morgana shoves his head out of Akira’s bag with a scowl. If a cat could scowl.

“What about _me?_ Come onnn, don’t just spoil Akira…”

They spend a few minutes welcoming him back, too—the girls most of all, though he eventually escapes their arms and takes refuge in Yusuke’s instead. After that, they head to Destinyland, which _is_ as empty as “rented out just for us” implies it to be.

And it’s fun. Never in his life did he think he’d be this happy, this breathless—though Akira’s hand in his as they travel through a haunted palace (with snickers among the thieves, calling it infiltration and trying to pinpoint Destinyland’s Treasure in it) multiplies the feeling. Neither of them are scared by anything the ride tries to throw at them, not that it stops Akira from squeezing his hand or moving closer to him; all his commentary is dry but amused, and Goro chuckles his way through the experience.

Dinner is late, which he doesn’t mind, and he stays quiet as conversation continues around him. Catching up, making plans for summer vacation (though it’s still a full month away), and then winter after. He glances at Akira when an elbow nudges his side, then looks up when Akira does.

The first explosion of sparks in the sky resonates in his chest and knocks a laugh loose; he’s aware he’s smiling wider than he ever has, and he’s aware of Akira scooting closer, his arm wrapping around his shoulders.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, and the sentiment is cheered by the rest of their party as soon as the cake comes. Akira moves to give him room, but his side is still warm, and where his hand had been tingles. Goro leans forward and stares at the candles, straight and new and pooling wax at their base the longer he does without blowing them out, and closes his eyes.

“What’d you wish for?” Ryuji asks immediately, and Goro treats him to a mischievous smile.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true. Isn’t that what they say?”

“Well, yeah, but… what if it’s something we could totally _help_ come true?”

“He has a point,” Morgana pipes up, hopping onto the table from Haru’s lap. “So?”

He shakes his head and folds his hands in his lap, looking down at them with a waning smile. “I didn’t wish for anything, honestly.” Two reasons for it, left unsaid: he doesn’t know if he deserves a wish, and he wouldn’t know what to wish _for_ if he did.

“So you’re satisfied with what you have.” Akira tilts his head in his peripheral, and Goro takes a moment to think about before he nods, slow but sure. It’s not a wrong way to read it, and it’s truer than he thought it’d be. “I think that’s fine. But don’t forget this is only part _one_ of your birthday party.”

The beach trip, right. He chuckles, shaking his head, and takes the piece of cake he’s offered by Haru.

“Of course.”

The next day is better, marginally; the train ride is hell as usual, but Yusuke shares his habit of wearing a light jacket to the beach, so he doesn’t feel too out of place in it. Akira teases him when he takes refuge from the sun under one of the large umbrellas they brought, and Goro retaliates by squeezing cold sun lotion directly onto his back.

The gasp and shiver beneath his fingertips makes his stomach flip-flop.

Haru takes care of Makoto and Ann, with the latter managing to get Futaba into her lap so she can massage lotion into her back despite her cries of definitely not needing it—as if to make a point, she takes a seat beside Goro as soon as she’s let go, digging through her bag to pull out her laptop and huff. Morgana takes two steps onto the sand and immediately backs up, curling up beside Futaba to watch her work.

A groan of _don’t make it weird, dude_ from Ryuji catches his attention, and Yusuke stares expectantly at Ryuji until he groans again and turns away, patting his back. “Sure, yeah, just hurry up, I wanna hit the water.”

“Don’t forget to stretch,” Akira calls, voice laced with the teasing of someone who’d definitely been paying attention to the conversation, and he grins slightly when Ryuji throws him a glare. Goro doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Akira points it out, his hand tracing his cheek, and he feels his heart skip a beat or two.

“I’m just…” He trails off, cheeks warming, and he turns his face away. “I’m happy everyone’s having a good time.” A beat, and he glances back at Akira. “And that you all decided to throw a party for me. And… a lot of things, I suppose.”

“I’m glad.” Akira leans closer, and Goro breathes in coffee and the distinct smell of sun lotion he’d put on minutes before. “You deserve it, Goro. I mean it.”

“That’s for the jury to decide,” he replies, and Akira smiles the way he used to as Joker—a little challenging and definitely overconfident. Pavlov’s bell (his pride) rings in his chest as he moves closer, brushing Akira’s fringe from his face and—

drawing back when Futaba clears her throat, stomach dropping like a rock. He’s certain he looks sunburnt, but Akira’s not much better, and Morgana stares at the both of them before he turns his attention back to Futaba’s laptop.

They share a smile, and Akira leaves the safety of the umbrella to join Ann and Ryuji in the surf.

At the station, sun dropping lower and lower behind Tokyo’s buildings, Akira offers to walk him home. Goro hesitates, then nods when he points out he’s never seen his place. It’s not even the same apartment he’d been in before—he’d moved, to something more modest and hidden. He’s still up rather high, and he smiles at Akira’s look when he leans over the railing and stares out at the city.

“I’ve always liked heights,” he sighs, fishing his key out and working on unlocking his door—the damn thing liked to stick, sometimes, but this time is less of a fight than usual. Akira hums, and when he pushes off from the rail, their backs bump. Goro smiles and kicks him gently to the side, stepping back when he’s given the room, and gestures inside. “After you.”

Akira stares, but eventually does as he says. Goro shuts the door behind him with a click that implies getting out will be harder battle, and when he turns and lifts his eyes, Akira’s there. Criminally close, and getting closer as he leans his arm against the door. His heart threatens to bruise his lungs, and he tilts his head into the kiss when it comes.

They fit so well together, it feels almost like an inevitably that they’d melt to the ground in a tangle of legs; it’s slow and sweet, and Akira keeps their foreheads pressed together when he breaks it. Goro swallows hard, his hand tracing Akira’s cheek.

“I missed you,” Akira whispers. Goro laughs, then laughs harder at his offended confusion.

“That’s my line,” he finally whispers back between giggles. “You’re the one who went away. Not me.”

“You did once.” Akira kisses him again, fingers carding through his hair slowly, and Goro has no argument for that, because he did. An answer presents itself long after they’re done making out, when they’ve settled onto a couch in a barely decorated living room, lights out and the television on, but muted.

“You’ve only been gone a few months.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.” Goro frowns slightly, but he can’t look at Akira; the boy has his head on his shoulder, arms snug around his waist. He sighs instead, leaning his head on Akira’s, and closes his eyes. “Besides, you weren’t with us for, what, a month?”

“Less,” he murmurs, rubbing small circles on Akira’s hip with his thumb. “A few weeks at best. You were taken into custody on the 19th, interrogated on the 20th, and… you schemed your way out of that then, too. It really wasn’t that long after that you pulled me off the ground and dragged me out.”

“You were such dead weight,” Akira replies, grinning when Goro huffs in mock-aggravation and nudges him. “I didn’t mind it, though. It was better than walking out of there without you.”

He pauses, and Goro feels his eyes close. “We all thought so.”

It takes him until the middle of the next movie for him to get the lump out of his throat and nose the top of Akira’s hair with a sigh. “I really, truly am thankful. I’ve been trying to be better, but…”

It doesn’t always work. Today had been fine; the past week had been fine; but on the whole, there are still so many things he has to work on. He still holds his cards close to his chest and peeks at everyone else’s, he still snaps when people try to help, he still takes things on his own and—

“The point is you’re trying,” Akira’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and Goro hums in response. It’s dismissive, he knows; he also knows his company isn’t going to stand for it, and he doesn’t. Akira pushes himself up, pulling Goro with him, and squeezes him tightly. “The others know that, too. It’s not easy to choose to trust others.”

He knows.

He knows that, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating to realize his first instinct is to back off or snap; even now, his instinct tells him to throw Akira off (now that his opinion is dissenting, now that they’re not doing something viscerally physical), but he doesn’t. He sinks into the couch and pulls him closer, onto his chest, and after a moment he feels Akira shift and get more comfortable.

“Thank you for the party.” Goro tilts his head away as he talks, watching the television. “And the trip. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“You might’ve had to actually talk to everyone else,” Akira teases gently, and Goro rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out here before July—I’ve missed everyone else, too.”

“Then maybe you should go cuddle with them,” he teases back, chuckling when he feels Akira’s arms tighten around his middle. “I’ll have to warn you though, Akira-kun,” he continues slowly, glancing down when Akira shifts and looks up at him, “I’m a jealous lover.”

“You’re the only one I’m kissing.” He pauses, then gives him a sneaky look. “Here.”

He laughs when Goro shoves him off the couch, or tries too; he ends up tumbling them both off, and it’s a beat before they’re both laughing, and Akira kisses a line up his throat and across his jaw; Goro moans, low and staccato, and pulls Akira flush against him. The floor is hard and terrible to lay on, but neither of them mind; they take the time to explore lands long untraveled, mapped with hitched breaths and gentle touches.

It’s nice. It’s warm. It’s something he’s wanted for far longer than he’d like to admit, than he’d like to think, even now.

More importantly, though, it’s his, and he exhales slowly.


End file.
